


Desperado

by rachelladytietjenswrites (heliophilenz)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Karaoke, Songfic, Zoe!verse, desperado
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliophilenz/pseuds/rachelladytietjenswrites
Summary: The boys get introspective.





	1. Chapter 1

 

What the hell kind of bar shuts down the pool tables for karaoke night?

Now they’re stuck in a cash-only town in Bumfuck, Idaho with no way to hustle money. Until Zoe points out that there is a prize of $100 for the ‘best new amateur’. Obviously the reason why the bar was so full, eventually everyone would get their chance at the money.

Sam was winning the third straight round of rock-paper-scissors when Zoe takes the stage. She stands awkwardly, a deer in the headlights, blinking as she peers over the crowd. Whoever is running the karaoke takes pity on her, dropping almost all the lights. The bar quiets a little. A few piano notes are enough for everyone to recognise The Eagles classic.

Zoe closes her eyes, coming in perfectly.

 _Desperado_  
_Why don’t you come to your senses_

Christ, she can actually sing. Her voice isn’t anything special, pitched low, but hey, she’s on key.

 _Been out riding fences for so long now_  
_Oh, you’re a hard one_  
_I know that you got your reasons_

The shock having passed, the brothers actually listen. It’s clear that Zoe isn’t just reading from a prompter. She knows this song, she feels this song, it means something to her. And from the silence of the crowd, they know it too.

 _But these things that are pleasing you_  
_Can hurt you somehow_

Dean stares down at his tumbler of whiskey. They were skint, so it’d be his only one for tonight, but usually by now he’d be at least two deep and working on the local bar bimbo. Dean had lived his life by the three B’s - booze, breasts, and bacon. Chasing the temporary numbness and warm diversions that made his life bearable. And yeah, they hurt him. Every goodbye a little abandonment, every morning after a tiny piece of hope shattered. He slugs the last of his drink, staring into the abyss of his empty glass.

 _Don’t you draw the queen of diamonds, boy_  
_She’ll bleed you if she’s able_

Sam felt like he had bled enough for a dozen lifetimes. Fights, torture, spells, amateur surgery, it seemed like everything in his life required an offering of blood. The queen of diamonds? She could get in line and wait her turn.

_And the queen of hearts is always your best bet_

Dean sneered. The queen of hearts? She sure as hell hadn’t dealt the Winchesters any favours. Their life was all spades and clubs, cards as black as the night they hide in while they exhume graves or hunt killers. Even arterial blood is black in the dark.

 _Now it seems to me some fine things_  
_Have been laid upon your table_

Since fucking WHEN? Sam took a long draw from his beer to stop from saying it out loud.

_But you only want the ones you can’t get_

What we want we ain’t ever going to get, Dean thought. Our loved ones back. For there to be peace and quiet. Space and time to catch our breath. To be able to wash the blood off our hands. Ain’t ever gonna happen, there’s no point wishing for anything different. They lived their lives in a blur of tarmac, junk food, dive bars, and blood. So much blood.

 _Desperado_  
_Oh you ain’t gettin no younger_

Sam snorted. No shit, he was still carrying bruises from the hunt before last. Despite the constant work to keep himself in peak condition he just wasn’t 25 anymore. And it had to be constant, too. A rough night and a heavy meal and he could feel himself clogging up, slowing down under the weight of all he carried. The weight of disappointments and responsibilities and shame, none of which he could outrun. No matter how hard he tried.

 _Your pain and your hunger_  
_They’re driving you home_  
_And freedom, oh freedom_  
_Well that’s just some people talkin'_

Zoe sucks in a big breath, the next line a little louder, more resonant.

_Your prison is walking through this world all alone_

Mom. Jess. Dad. Ellen. Jo. So many people that would never walk next to them again. But Dean knew they weren’t alone, not really. They had each other, and now they had Zoe. Zoe and the weird hodgepodge of a family that she had knitted together out of freaks and orphans and lost souls.

 _Don’t your feet get cold in the wintertime_  
_The sky won’t snow and the sun won’t shine_  
_It’s hard to tell the night time from the day_

The number of times Sam got lost on his morning run was getting ridiculous. A new town every day, and getting directions in the predawn gloom could be difficult when you’re 6'4" and panting. He was so sick of being scary even when he wasn’t trying.

 _You’re losing all your highs and lows_  
 _Ain’t it funny how the feeling goes_  
_Away_

Dean knew there were more lows than highs in this business. Always more death, more pain, more compromises. And the highs of a win, a successful hunt, a cheerful night on the town with a deep glass and a willing woman… Well there was always another monster, the glass always emptied, and the sun always rose on another goodbye.

 _Desperado_  
_Why don’t you come to your senses_  
_Come down from your fences_  
_Open the gate_

Sam looked down at his hands. Even Dean had stopped teasing him about the fatality rate of the women he got involved with. It’s one thing to make yourself vulnerable, its another to find someone who could survive this insane life they lead.

 _It may be rain'n_  
_But there’s a rainbow above you_  
_You’d better let somebody love you_

They’d both given up on love, and yet their lives were full of it.

The gruff safety of Bobby's and fatherly love.

The ineffable devotion of their angel.

The staunch camaraderie of their sheriff sister.

The understanding and acceptance of a rag-tag bunch of people (mostly people) who knew the truth of who they were and what they did and what they had done. All of it, even the worst. And who welcomed them anyway with a seat at the table, a clean bed, warm food and a willing ear.

Because of it all, not despite it.

_You’d better let somebody love you_

The care and tenderness of the woman on the stage, who was more than just their version of Pepper Potts. More than a researcher and medic and go-fer and an extra pair of eyes.

Their lives had changed since the first time Bobby had guilt-tripped them into taking her on a case, little more than glorified babysitting. She had saved them both more than once, body and soul and sanity. She sewed them up and knitted them together; small, tight stitches of kindness and truth and acceptance.

Without her…hell, without her it might only be the two of them, or worse, just one.

_Before it’s too late_

They lived their lives on the edge of too late. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The lights come up, startling the Winchesters out of their reverie. The crowd goes wild, some applauding as they brush away tears. The boys both clap as they call out, "That's my girl."

They stare at each other. A flash of telepathy, then they voice each other's thoughts.

"Over and over, she's refused to leave us," Sam says.

"She's damn hard to kill, and even that doesn't stop her," Dean replies.

Sam breaks the deadlock by looking away. He knows that Dean will try to find a way to martyr himself, and tries to head him off. "We don't deserve her."

" _I_ don't deserve her," Dean tries to correct him.

" _We_ don't deserve her," Sam insists, the tilt of his chin indicating that he isn't going to back down. He holds up his pinky finger. "But we can try. Whomever she chooses, no resentments, no trouble, just be happy."

Dean eyes his brother, before wrapping their littlest fingers together. Trust Zoe to have resurrected the only oath that they both considered inviolable. "Pinky swear."

They watch as Zoe collects her winnings, wondering how the hell to start this conversation.

 

"Beds for the night and a decent meal," Dean says as he drops their bags in the motel room. "Damn good work, Zo, thanks."

"Not the first time I've taken one for the team." She sighs as she heads for the bathroom. "It was a pity win though; they saw how terrified I was and rewarded the bravery rather than the singing."

"No chance," Sam raises his voice so she can hear through the door, "everyone in that bar knew you won fair and square." He nods to the bed nearest to the bathroom, and he and Dean sit side-by-side to wait for Zoe.

A flush and the splash of hands being washed, then she's out the door, drawn to a halt by the brothers waiting patiently for her. "Um, guys?"

Sam dives in. "You were singing about us, singing _to_ us, weren't you?"

Zoe looks away, trying to laugh it off, "It's just a song. I had to pick something I knew."

"We  _know_  that it meant something to you," Dean corrected her. "And we know damn well that it meant something to us."

Sam adds seamlessly, "But it all applies to you as well. And- and we gotta know, Zoe. Are you going to let one of us love you?"

Zoe took a step back, shaking her head. "Wha- No, I can't."

Dean hurries to reassure her, "Hey, it's lady's choice, no harm, no foul, no hard feelings. It's just- We-" Dean snatches a breath and tries again. "We all deserve a little happiness, and, well, two outta three ain't bad," he says, circling a hand to encompass the three of them.

"No, it's not that." Zoe gulps, head still shaking. "It's not that I won't choose. It's that I can't."

The brothers share a look before turning back to Zoe.

"It's okay," Sam says, "It's natural you have a favourite-"

"Dammit, no!" Zoe folds her arms, "It's not like that. I mean, I have preferences, sure.

"Dean is- is for movies, and fairgrounds, and quote wars, and watching the sunset with a beer in hand or lying in the grass on a summer's day.

"And Sam, you're reading, and weird specialist museums, and in-jokes, and watching the sun rise while eating oatmeal or curling up in front of a fire. You're both of you hugs and safety and laughter, and- and-"

Zoe breaks away to pace the length of the room and back before she continues. "And I refuse to give any of it up. And it's _not fair_ that you're trying to make me choose when I love you both."

Her shoulders drop, eyes glassy. "Besides, you're inseparable, intertwined, like the swirly symbol for yin and yang. Doing anything that comes between you just isn't an option. Who knows how long until the world needs the Winchesters to save it again? _Both_ of them."

Dean rubs his hands over his face as Sam's head bows in defeat.

Until Sam's head snaps up, startling them. "Both of them," he says, as if questioning his own sanity. "What if you didn’t  _have_  to choose."

Dean stares at Sam. "Both?"

Zoe watches as they look at each other for a long, heavy moment full of the patented Winchester mind-reading. With a synchronous nod, they turn to her with hope writ large across their faces.

Knowing that her mind will immediately race into whys and hows and disasters, Sam reaches for her hand. "Hey, we will figure it out. We always do. Whatever works for everyone."

Dean takes the other. "And there's no rush. We know you need time to process." Nodding at the bed he's sitting on. "Sam and I will take the king, give you a little space. Okay?"

When she doesn't reply, Dean starts to panic. "Or- or- we can get you another room?" A quick glance at Sam, who looks just as worried. "There's a proper hotel in the city, only 20 minutes away. You could have a holiday, we can handle-"

"No!" Zoe shakes her head as she pulls her hands free of theirs. "Don't bench me because I'm some fucking weirdo who never knows what she's feeling. If anything happened to you two..." She starts to nod. "The bed thing is fine. And- and we'll talk again after the hunt."

 


End file.
